


Collect Me With Your Steady Hand

by howtosingit



Category: 9-1-1: Lone Star (TV 2020)
Genre: Deleted Scenes, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, Friendship/Love, M/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:08:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22593061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howtosingit/pseuds/howtosingit
Summary: TK processes his dad’s diagnosis, and Carlos makes tamales.A post-1x04 fic, based on that 1x05 promo pic from the cut Tarlos dinner scene.
Relationships: Carlos Reyes/TK Strand
Comments: 22
Kudos: 403





	Collect Me With Your Steady Hand

**Author's Note:**

> Title from “Ease My Mind” by Ben Platt, an absolutely beautiful song.
> 
> Huge thank you, as always, to emisfritish for being the best enabler/sounding board/beta/friend a hot mess like me could ever ask for.

————————————

He can tell every time that it happens.

It’s like that feeling when your ears sink just below the surface of the water, but not every part of you is fully immersed. Maybe you’re floating on your back, or on your stomach; maybe you went under just to the top of your ears. It doesn’t really matter how, just that your ears are under but all of you might not be. The sound fades out into this eerie diluted thrum, but you can feel the air above the water on your exposed body. You’re simultaneously a part of both places, under and above, and you can’t belong fully to either one. 

It’s the in-between, and that’s the place where he feels most alone. 

Back in New York, he used to spend a lot of time in the in-between, especially when he was riding a high. He’s had a lot of experience there, and it’s almost a betrayal that he doesn’t feel more comfortable in that place after all of these years. 

When he left the city, he hoped to leave the in-between behind. Those last days, when he’d sunk so far under the water that all he could see and hear was the darkness, are hard to forget. Starting over, here in Texas, was a way to escape that part of himself. It hasn’t been easy, and it hasn’t been without faults, but he was doing better. He was staying above the surface.

And then he finds his dad’s meds. And then his dad confirms what he already knows. And then he holds his dad tight and puts on a brave face and tells him that he’ll be there for him and that he knows that he is strong enough to beat this. 

He believes that, he really does. But at the same time, TK can’t stop himself from imagining the alternative. It hits him repeatedly throughout the day, the idea of a reality without his biggest supporter, his best friend. The only person that he has left in this world. In those moments, he can feel himself falling under the surface, not fully submerged, but not fully present either. 

Unlike the times before, it’s not a drug that will carry him further down before it wears off. This time, he’s held down by a weight that he can’t shake off, a premature grief that he can’t process because there hasn’t actually been a loss to grieve. 

The idea of it is so much heavier. 

So, he knows what’s happening right now, he can tell every time that it happens. He’s sitting at the table, the candles to his right flickering faintly on the edge of his vision. A plate sits in front of him, filled with some of the most delicious looking food he’s ever been served, but he can’t eat it. He knows it won’t have any taste, just like it doesn’t really have a smell. Just like he can’t really see the candle flame, and he can’t really hear the man moving around in the kitchen behind him, speaking without pausing for breath.

When Carlos had texted him that morning after returning from his weekend trip, TK immediately texted back, asking to meet up. His therapist has repeatedly made it clear that he needs to surround himself with people who can be there for him when things get hard, and Carlos is the closest thing that he has to a friend in Texas. Besides, with his dad relying on him for support, TK has to stay on the right track now more than ever. So, without thinking too much about it, he takes a chance and asks Carlos out. 

He can tell, even through text, that this surprises the officer.

**You want to have dinner with me?**

_Yeah, I missed you this weekend. I’d like to see you._

**Okay, yeah. I’d like that too.**

_Where should we go? I’m relying on you to introduce me to Austin’s best._

**I know some places.**

**But**

**This doesn’t have to mean anything**

**But I’d really like to cook for you**

**I like to cook and I don’t get to do it for other people very often**

**Would that be okay?**

**It’s fine if not, I’ll just pick a place**. 

The texts had come in so fast, TK hadn’t been able to respond. He had found Carlos’s anxious spiral to be a relief, as the man usually presented himself with so much confidence — a requirement for a police office, sure, but still unnerving. It’s that, more than anything else, that inspires TK to agree.

But now, sitting in Carlos’s apartment, staring down at the tamales on his plate, he just feels so disconnected from everything around him. He tries hard to grasp onto something, anything, but the false reality of his dad’s death keeps him from holding firm to anything real around him.

“TK?”

Lost in his own head, he doesn’t notice Carlos approaching him until there’s a gentle hand on his shoulder. It throws him, full-force, back into the moment, and he looks up to find Carlos standing next to him, his eyebrows furrowed in concern.

“You okay?” 

TK doesn’t respond, just continues to stare up at him, trying to make sense of where exactly he is and what he’s doing here. He can’t help thinking that he probably shouldn’t be.

“Something wrong with the tamales?” Carlos tries again, glancing down at the plate that TK has barely touched. TK looks down at it too, but he’s still not processing anything in a way that makes any sense. With a deep breath, he leans forward onto the table, crossing his arms in front of him and clenching his fingers around them, trying to ground himself. He feels Carlos’s hand fall from his shoulder, and immediately misses the weight. 

“It’s something else, isn’t it?” Carlos says, obviously trying to fill the heavy silence. “Look, I know you didn’t want to do this, and I hope you didn’t feel pressured into anything. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

TK hears a shuffle and glances over, seeing that Carlos has shifted to sit at the head of the table, resting his arm on the surface and propping his head against his closed fist as he leans in TK’s direction. The action pulls his shirt sleeve tight around his bicep, and TK is distracted as his eyes travel over the man in front of him. 

“TK, can you just tell me what’s wrong?” Carlos hedges, his body shifting slightly with discomfort under TK’s scrutiny. “I want us to be able to talk, TK. Talk to me.”

TK’s gaze shifts to Carlos’s face, pulled in by his bright brown eyes. They’re wide open and earnest. The sight causes TK’s breath to catch in his throat, just like it did when they sat like this at the police station less than two weeks ago. He’s still not used to people looking at him with so much open emotion; New Yorkers are notorious for being closed-off and guarded. He’s never met someone who wears their heart on their sleeve the way that Carlos does; it’s weird, but he finds it comforting. It makes him want to try too, to be more open like Carlos.

He holds Carlos’s gaze and, with a deep breath, speaks for the first time in what might be hours or days or weeks, but is probably just mere minutes. “My dad has cancer.”

Carlos’s eyes flicker in shock for just a brief moment, but he doesn’t look away. His hand drops down to the table, landing next to TK’s elbow. TK can feel the warmth, even though they aren’t touching. There’s a shift in the energy of the room, but Carlos is as steady as always, and TK can’t hold back any longer.

“He was diagnosed in New York. He didn’t tell me. I found out yesterday.” The words come out choppy and disjointed, monotonous and somewhat clinical. “He didn’t think I could handle it. He told me that wasn’t it, but I know it was. He was right, too. I can’t handle it. I keep fading out, losing myself. Thinking about him not being here with me. I. . . I. . .” 

His words catch in his throat. His eyes scan Carlos’s face, trying to cling to something, but for the first time, he can’t tell what the other man is thinking. TK’s eyes widen, the fear of losing control right now sending him into a panic, but before he can go too far, he feels Carlos’s hand make contact with his skin. The touch opens his throat wide as a shaky gasp falls from him. “I can’t lose him. I can’t. He’s the only person I have. I can’t be alone. I don’t know what will happen to me if I’m alone. I can’t lose my dad. I can’t—“

His brain cuts him off as, without warning, Carlos rises from the table and moves behind him. It’s so fast that TK has no idea how it even happened. One moment, Carlos is at the table beside him; the next, he feels the other man’s body wrapped all around him, so close that he can’t tell where they each begin and end. 

Carlos slides his arm around TK’s shoulders, linking their fingers together against TK’s chest. TK grips his forearm with his other hand, relishing in the feel of Carlos’s warm, coarse skin against his fingertips. Carlos’s right arm comes around him from the other side, his head resting next to TK’s, their faces pressed together, side-by-side. From behind, Carlos’s firm torso settles against TK’s back and shoulders, only the back of TK’s chair keeping them from fully melding into one. 

Neither speaks. TK has no idea what he would even say. He has never, ever, been held like this before. At least, not by someone like Carlos. Certainly not by Alex, the man he had planned to spend the rest of his life with; they never touched like this. When he was younger, in his teens, before Alex, he touched guys in a different way, almost always for pleasure. But that’s not what this is; this is the furthest thing from sex.

He can feel himself vibrating, so much emotion throbbing through him, but instead of backing off, Carlos just holds him tighter, the hand that’s not holding TK’s rubbing softly against his skin. It’s so gentle, so caring, that TK can only remember being held by one other person with this kind of warmth and strength.

As a kid, TK used to think that Owen Strand could win an award for giving the best hugs in the entire universe. When TK would tell him that, his dad would give him a wide grin and gather him up in his arms, spinning him wildly around the room as TK’s giggles filled the space. He’s never felt safer than in the arms of his dad. His biggest hero. His one constant.

At this moment, all TK can think is how he now has a limited number of those hugs left. 

The sudden thought steals the air right from his lungs. Carlos must sense it, because he turns his face towards TK, his nose pressing into the man’s temple. His lips softly caress TK’s ear as he finally speaks. “Breathe, TK,” he whispers softly. “Just breathe.”

It takes a minute before TK really comprehends what he’s saying. The room begins to spin, a result of the lack of oxygen to his brain, but Carlos is there the entire time. TK can feel his breath on his face, and he tries to focus on it, to synch-up their breathing. Carlos is patient and quiet, no longer speaking once he realizes that TK is making an effort to take in oxygen. However, he keeps his body wrapped tightly around TK, making it easier to feel each inhale and exhale.

It takes a while, what feels like hours, but finally TK feels his body relax. His breathing evens out, his vision clears. For the first time, he feels like he’s fully here, in Carlos’s apartment, with the man himself; for the first time all day, he’s fully in the present moment. TK grips Carlos’s hand tightly, silently thanking him for keeping him grounded.

Carlos seems to recognize TK’s newfound calm because he loosens his hold on him; he doesn’t pull away completely, but he gives TK a little space, resting his chin on TK’s shoulder. 

“I know that we don’t really do this,” Carlos starts, and TK turns to face him, letting him know that he’s paying attention, “but thank you for letting me help. And for telling me.” 

TK shifts just a bit to look Carlos in the eyes; they’re still wide open, but they’re softer than they were before. His forehead is creased in concern, but it doesn’t feel like pity. 

“I’ve only known him for a little while, but your dad is one of the strongest people that I’ve ever met,” Carlos says, his thumb gently rubbing back and forth across TK’s right arm. “And you, TK, are one of the strongest people that I’ve ever met. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I’d put my money on the two of you any day.” 

“And no matter what happens with your dad, TK,” Carlos continues, and TK feels him take a deep breath before he goes on, “you are not alone here. You have your entire team, your familia, and they’ve got your back. Siempre.” 

TK nods, but he gets the feeling that there’s more Carlos wants to say. The other man has broken eye contact following his little speech, and now he’s looking down at where his thumb continues to glide across TK’s skin. 

TK thinks he knows what this is; Carlos has been burned by him before when he dared to show a hint of intimacy, and now he’s keeping his guard up, trying to stay more on the surface instead of diving in head first. TK understands, and he doesn’t blame Carlos for it, but he also wants them to be honest with each other. His last relationship fell apart because of withheld information, and he doesn’t want that with Carlos, no matter what kind of relationship they end up having together. 

He knows that he’s going to have to make a move, to prove to Carlos that he’s not running away; that he has no interest in running away from him again.

They’re already sitting so close, but TK leans forward slightly, enough to nudge his forehead against Carlos’s temple. “You’re right,” he says, lips raising into a smirk. “I’ve got my team. And what about you?”

TK feels Carlos’s thumb stop its movement on his arm, but at the same time, he sees his lips turn up into a small smile. He might even be blushing. “Me?” Carlos says, and TK can hear a hint of what might be his signature sass coming out. It makes him smile. “I’m not going anywhere.” Carlos pulls back, looking TK directly in the eye. “You’ve got me whenever you need me, TK.”

The sincerity in his voice doesn’t surprise TK — if he’s learned anything about Carlos in the time that they’ve known each other, it’s that he’s an incredibly genuine person — but it still takes TK aback; he’s still adjusting to life away from the more distant people in New York. 

Carlos, ever the observant officer, seems to understand that TK doesn’t necessarily have a response to his honesty; that he needs more time. So, he fills the silence for him. 

“But right now, you need to eat. I did not spend hours on these tamales for you to just stare at them with those puppy dog eyes.” Carlos’s eyes glint with laughter as he pulls back, dragging his hands slowly away as he stands straight. TK huffs out a laugh, looking down at his plate. He feels Carlos move around the table to take his seat across from him. 

They’re quiet, but it’s not awkward. It feels calming, peaceful — the first peace that TK has known since finding the pills in his dad’s desk. He stares over at Carlos, his face softly glowing in the light from the candles, and takes a deep breath to settle himself.

He’s got this. He’s got Carlos. He’s got Judd, Marjan, Paul, and Mateo. And he’s still got his dad. 

He’s got enough support to keep his head above the water. 

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr at [howtosingit](https://howtosingit.tumblr.com/), where I endlessly reblog things about my various favorite things. You know, as one does.


End file.
